Child of the Grass
by The Bawdy Bardess
Summary: Wigburh, a Rohirric girl , discovers she is half-elven, and is sent to live with her elven father. She eventually ends up following in her lady Eowyn's footsteps as a shieldmaiden and a hero Not a Mary-Sue, no slash, bookmovie mix, mostly book.
1. Shadows of Air

Disclaimer- I do not own Galadriel, or Eowyn, or Eomer, or Merry, or the Witch-king, or Faramir, or any other recognizable Lord of the Rings character, although I wish I did. I do not own the poem below (it belongs to Ezra Pound), or the poem in Quenya. The translation was done by Boris Shapiro, and the poem itself was written by Tolkien.

Child of the Grass

Ezra Pound

_Child of the grass  
The years pass Above us  
Shadows of air All these shall Love us  
Winds for our fellows  
The browns and the yellows  
Of autumn our colors  
Now at our life's morn. Be we well sworn  
Ne'er to grow older  
Our spirits be bolder At meeting  
Than e'er before All the old lore  
Of the forests woodways  
Shall aid us: Keep we the bond seal  
Ne'er shall we feel  
Aught of sorrow_

_Let light flow about thee  
As a cloak of air_

_Wigburh, _Galadriel's frosted eyes pierced mine like icicles. _Do not shy from that which seeks you. For I have seen into your heart, and you seek it as well. _

_But what is it that seeks me? _

As Galadriel turned away from me, she became a young maiden, one whom I knew long ago, but could not remember. Her voice was cool, but rang of kindness.

_You seek what I seek. Have faith, Beriadanwen, you shall find it soon._

A strong wind blew in from the east, and grasped the maiden's hair in its fists. Her long yellow hair blew in front of her, and hid her face from view. I felt the need to help her- for how should she be able to see to fight off that which was approaching…

I was no longer in the presence of the maiden. I was sitting upright in my bed, with my hair wrapped around my face, probably from tossing and turning. I turned to face my eastern-window, and, where I should have seen dawn approaching, I saw only night.

_Perhaps I have woken too soon, and am still in Night's domain_, I thought to myself, but I knew that was not true. In the seven years that I had spent in Lorien, I had woken every morning with Dawn, and not an hour earlier or later. No, Dawn would not come for me today. Perhaps for the others, but for me it would not come.

It was time.

Instead of reaching for my dress, I reached for the Rohirric dagger that I had kept concealed in my trunk. It was all that remained from my life in Rohan, other than the brooch that I had kept for sentimental purposes. I paused only for a moment in front of the looking-glass, taking one last glance at the beautiful, floor-length hair that I had been so proud of. Then I cut it off, until the only hair I had left came down to my ears. I still looked feminine, but that was the best I could do for myself, other than dressing in breeches, which I would do once back in Rohan. For now, I had to settle with a riding costume that I stole from the riding stables. I pulled on the trousers, the underskirt, the overskirt, the bodice, the coat, and the boots.

I glanced in the looking-glass again, and upon seeing myself, prayed the Valar would keep me hidden from sight until I was safely out of the forests. If caught, I knew I could plead my case to Galadriel, who would believe me, but I did not have the time to seek an audience with her. Every fiber of my being urged me to ride to Rohan without hesitation.

As I stuck the dagger in the sheath at my waist, and hurried silently out the door and into the hallway, I quietly recited a poem that I remembered, from what seemed ages ago.

_Masse sí rocco ar roquen? Masse ná romba i súyane?  
Masse ná cassa ar varme, ar findesse calima sirala?  
Masse ná má nandenna, ar náre narwa uryala?  
Masse ná tuile ar cermie ar yáve halla loala?  
Avánier ve miste orosse, ve súlime lairenna;  
Auri nuntar mí Andúne ambor pella fuinenna.  
Man hostuva usque wilwa turuo hessa uryala,  
Var cenuva yéni sirala et Earello entula?_

I had no time to lose. As I reached the stables, I murmured one last lament for Tegalad, who would never ride again. I mounted Rocheleg, and rode south, for Rohan, and for destiny.

_Masse sí rocco ar roquen? Masse ná romba i súyane?  
Masse ná cassa ar varme, ar findesse calima sirala?  
Masse ná má nandenna, ar náre narwa uryala?  
Masse ná tuile ar cermie ar yáve halla loala?  
Avánier ve miste orosse, ve súlime lairenna;  
Auri nuntar mí Andúne ambor pella fuinenna.  
Man hostuva usque wilwa turuo hessa uryala,  
Var cenuva yéni sirala et Earello entula?_

This was the Lament of the Rohirrim found in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Two Towers, and recited by Theoden in the movie by the same name.


	2. The Spring Shall Come

Disclaimer: Again, the poem I will be using is not mine. It belongs to Didier Willis, and it was translated by Sebastien Bertho. The last bit of line that Beriadanwen says in Sindarin was translated by Ryszard Derdzinski, and written by Tolkien, but her last song was by Lukas Novak.

"_Hlaren quen i taurissen, láma i aurello íre omentánelme," _I whispered, knowing very well who was standing right behind me.

"_Tennoio aiwi liruvar i herin olórenyaron, vantarye imbe laiqua narasse ar lótearwa peler,"_ He wrapped his arms around my waist teasingly. I leaned my head against his shoulder, and toyed with one of my curls.

"You are too kind Tegalad," I joked, "but perhaps the birds would rather speak for themselves. And from where were you watching me, when I was doing all of this walking about?

"_Avantielme ter tarsaye auri, voronnelme morne lendi ar únótime harwi,"_ Tegalad ignored my comment, and became serious, stroking my hair softly. I glanced back at him, wondering at his mood change. He gazed off into the distance, seeming not to know where he was.

"Don't speak like that, we've had a wonderful life so far. You are only wishing evil upon us now." I became serious myself, and turned away to face him. _"Áva tulta i móre, melnenya."_

"I summon nothing that is not already coming, Beriadanwen. War is nigh, and Saruman is closing his forces in upon your mother's people. Did you not know? Rohan is trapped, a tiny island in a raging sea."

I smiled. Surely Tegalad did not know as much as I knew, if he did, he would not be so grim.  
"Do not fear, _melnenya_. There is a fortress-"

"Helm's Deep? Yes, that is where your people are headed, but there is no stronghold to defend against ten thousand fighting uruk-hai."

"Ten thousand? Surely you must be mistaken?" I laughed in spite of myself, but it was a fearful laugh, the laugh of one who did not wish to believe what she had been told.

"Why do you not believe me? While you have been sheltered against all news of war, I have been preparing for battle against a mighty foe. Haldir is leading a small company out tonight, to help strengthen the defenses. I am going with them."

"Please take me with you!" I begged, dropping to my knees in despair of being left behind. "Please! I could not bear to remain here, while you are saving my family alone. This would surely be a lovely prison, if I must remain."

Tegalad was unmercifully cold. "Then I bid you to endure such a lovely prison, and remember those who languish in dungeons much less fair, for remain you must."

"Surely I have more right to go than you! What do you care for the people of Rohan? Do you appreciate how the grass seems to never end, how Edoras vainly reaches for the sky against the backdrop of mountains? What can you know of these things?" I was inconsolable.

"Beriadanwen, do not weep. You ask why I leave you to fight for people I do not know? They are your people, milady, and if even half of your people are as you are, then I gladly would fight to the death for them."

"_Áva hehta ni, antuvan len hína, ar már nilda," _I pleaded with him. He smiled, and kissed me on the forehead.

"I would love nothing more, Beriadanwen. I ask only for your patience. Remain here, and when I return, we shall be wed. _"A eldava venda mírihendeaá lartaúvan cuina eressea."_

"So you will leave no matter what? _Navaer, melnenya_. I feel a horrible shadow growing." I stepped away from him, and gazed off into the sunset.

_Fuin eth thindor caeda na-falvath immen tad_

_Navaer! Dor Belain hirithar aen allen._

_Allen hirithar aen. Navaer! _

My voice cracked as I sang, and for the first time in years, I felt the warmth of tears crawl down my face. I turned, and as I walked back to Tegalad, words came to me in a song-vision, and I sang to him as I had never sung before.

_Amba a cena, orta órelya,  
entula minn' Endóreo lumbë,  
I túla elyenna, mi sinda collo,  
ná úner i yondoron Eldaliéva._

Ter fírima Atan i estel antaina,  
ter fírima túlas, i hrívesse ringa,  
i tuile nan tuluva minna Endóre  
ar i Elen Estelo nauva tintaina.

As my voice rose and dropped to notes that I had never hit before, I embraced Tegalad. I could not stop singing, not until the words stopped coming. And when they stopped coming, I felt hope rise inside me, and I was able to part with Tegalad that evening with a light heart.

I know that was a lot of elven language, but here are the translations:

Quotes from _Quenya Prose Fragment,_ by Didier Willis (translation by Sebastien Bertho)

_Hlaren quen i taurissen, láma i aurello íre omentánelme_: I hear someone in the woods, an echo of the day we met

_Tennoio aiwi liruvar i herin olórenyaron, vantarye imbe laiqua narasse ar lótearwa peler_: Forever birds will sing for the lady of my dreams: she walks between green pasture and flowery field.

_Avantielme ter tarsaye auri, voronnelme morne lendi ar únótime harwi_: Having traversed troubled days, we endured dark journeys and countless wounds

_Áva tulta i móre, melnenya_ : Don't summon the night, my love.

_Áva hehta ni, antuvan len hína, ar már nilda_ : Don't forsake me, I'll give thee a child, and a friendly home

_A eldava venda mírihendeaá lartaúvan cuina eressea_ : O Elfin maid with crystal eyes, wait, I won't live alone

Quotes from _Galadriel's Lament_ by Ryszard Derdzinski

_Navaer_: Farewell

_Fuin eth thindor caeda na-falvath immen tad_

_Navaer! Dor Belain hirithar aen allen._

_Allen hirithar aen. Navaer! _:

Darkness out-of grey-land lies on-foams between-us two

Farewell! For-thou found may be Valinor

For-thou found may be. Farewell!

Quote from _I Omentië Vinyamassë _by Lukas Novak

_Amba a cena, orta órelya,  
entula minn' Endóreo lumbë,  
I túla elyenna, mi sinda collo,  
ná úner i yondoron Eldaliéva._

Ter fírima Atan i estel antaina,  
ter fírima túlas, i hrívesse ringa,  
i tuile nan tuluva minna Endóre  
ar i Elen Estelo nauva tintain :

Look up, raise your heart,

Come again into the shadow of Middle-Earth,

Who is coming against you in the gray cloak,

Is nobody of the Elven-folk sons.

Through the mortal man the hope is given

Through the mortal it is coming, in the cold winter,

But the spring shall come to Middle-Earth,

And the Star of Hope shall be kindled.


	3. The First Faint Glitter of Fear

Disclaimer: The poem used in this chapter is _I Anda Malle_, or The Long Road, by Thomas Ferencz, and from _Morn 'ellui_, by Didier Willis.

I had been riding for two days, and was sped along the road by some unseen force that made me much faster than I would have been alone. At the end of the second day, I was already passed the place where the Limlight left the Anduin, and was camped in the Wold. Rocheleg was wandering around near the campsite, grazing wherever he felt the desire to graze. I did not have the heart to tether him, and I knew I did not need to. Rocheleg would not leave me in any circumstance.

I had brought nothing with me but _lembas_ bread, and so I lay on the ground, chewing slowly on the quarter piece of bread that I had rationed myself. I watched the stars, searching for Eärendil. After I located it, I closed my eyes, and tried to sleep.

As I lay there, I realized more than ever, how alone I truly was. Tegalad, my to-be-wed, was dead, my parents had probably forgotten about me, and no one knew where I was, save perhaps Galadriel. Sleep left me, and for the first time in years, I was afraid.

I stood up, and looked around. In the very far distance, I could make out the faint glow of what probably was a village. I laid back down, trying to resist the temptation to make camp closer to humans, but fear of being alone overcame me. It seemed the closer I was to Rohan, the more human I seemed, for fear of any sort would never have gripped me in Lorien.

Finally, I whistled for Rocheleg, cleaned up what little camp I had made, and rode for the village.

It seemed farther away than what I had originally thought, and by the end of the road, I was weary and eager for rest.

"_Laucë auta Ambarello. Á pusta, telcu! Siarë lá yonta. I asto hwinya or carinya, tuonyar rihtear pittavë, tárë yúyo hautar,"_ I recited the words of the song to myself, smiling at how appropriate they were.

I did not wish to disturb the villagers by impolitely asking for lodging at such an hour, so I remade my camp and slept on the outskirts of town. Even though my odd need for companionship was satisfied, something still did not feel right. I tossed and turned for several minutes, my body searching in vain for the sleep it needed so badly. Finally, I fell asleep, but it was a fitful sleep, and my dreams were racked with sorrow.

The one dream I remember was a song-vision, and I sang it to the yellow-haired maiden.

Quettar centanya  
quetiën ni hehtaner írë i minëa néca nalta  
aisto lantanë carinyanna. I centa aica  
nyarië Valain sa cuilë ná túrina, ilyë  
Eldar nar wanwa, Naucor firini caitar  
nún nu ondor rómië límë lungë,  
an Moringottor unótimë ortiër. Quíta  
vanima ná sa lambanya ná nútina  
an írë quetin i quettar i sundor Ambarwa  
tancavë ruxar nyenyala, ar Cúma ilúvë tópa.

The maiden blinked slowly, and when she opened her eyes, they were shining with tears. A light breeze picked up a piece of her hair and stretched it across her face, catching it on her wet, sticky cheeks. She shuddered, and knelt before me, laying her sword at my feet.

_  
"I too have seen what you have seen, yet I do not fear it. Have heart, Elfhelm, even if it be hard as rock and cold as steel."_

I looked at her, and finished my song-vision. 

Ananta  
I cirya larta enta hópassë vahaiya, ya  
ullume hiruvan. Var sië nin séya.

_The maiden turned away. Frustrated, I called, _

_A adan fíreb, tiro nin!_

_She turned back._

"No man am I."

I awoke, with a horrible sense of dread, fearing the maiden, and dreading the destiny which I knew was going to bring me to her.

In the dark moments before the sun rose, I sang the vision that I had not completed in my sleep, but did so in the Common Tongue, so that all those in the village would hear me and weep as I wept!

_O mortal man, look at me,_

_Said the lonely Elf out of the night. _

_I sing my eternal hope for love,_

_The gift of the golden Gods drank from silver vessels_

_He sang in the shadow of death: _

_We are doomed to stay in Middle-earth, _

_Until the last battle under the sky _

_The yelling horde killed him. _

_On this side of the world_

_Without Elf and without Dwarf,_

_The God with one eye, _

_Two ravens on his head, _

_Is laughing: _

_"Now at last, I hold the Shaping of Middle-eath _

_In my hand of iron". _

_The dark enemy is released. _

I wept, and as the morning came to reveal a sky of rain, it seemed Middle-Earth wept with me.

I apologize for the excess of poetry, but it _does_ serve a purpose.

Translations:

_I Anda Malle_, or The Long Road, by Thomas Ferencz

_Laucë auta Ambarello. Á pusta, telcu! Siarë lá yonta. I asto hwinya or carinya, tuonyar rihtear pittavë, tárë yúyo hautar. _:

Warmth has passed from the world. Stop, my legs! No more today.  
The dust swirls above my head, my sinews shake a bit,  
both rest then.

_Quettar centanya  
quetiën ni hehtaner írë i minëa néca nalta  
aisto lantanë carinyanna. I centa aica  
nyarië Valain sa cuilë ná túrina, ilyë  
Eldar nar wanwa, Naucor firini caitar  
nún nu ondor rómië límë lungë,  
an Moringottor unótimë ortiër. Quíta  
vanima ná sa lambanya ná nútina  
an írë quetin i quettar i sundor Ambarwa  
tancavë ruxar nyenyala, ar Cúma ilúvë tópa._ :

The words, my message  
to utter have abandoned me when the first faint glitter  
of fear fell on my head. The dire message,  
to tell the Valar that life is defeated, all  
the Elves are gone, the Dwarves lie dead  
deep under rocks too heavy to heave,  
and countless Morgoths have arisen. Perhaps  
it is proper that my tongue is knotted  
for when I say the words, the roots of the world  
will surely crumble crying, and the Void covers all.

Ananta  
I cirya larta enta hópassë vahaiya, ya  
ullume hiruvan.

Var sië nin séya. :

Alas! still  
the ship waits there in that harbour far away, that  
I will never find.

Or so it seems.

_Morn 'ellui_, by Didier Willis.

_A adan fíreb, tiro nin! _: O mortal man, look at me!


End file.
